“They will not. Oh, how could I have been such a fool, to trap myself with him? And all because of his cursed child.”

“Do not say such things, Vanessa. Does he know your feelings?”

“He? The colonial? Know? He knows nothing.”

James turned silently from the door. He knows now, he thought grimly. Going downstairs, he told the butler that there was no need to mention to his wife that he had been there, because he had just remembered that he had an errand to run. He did not return for over an hour.

In the year that followed, James went about his business as usual. He watched carefully for signs from his wife—either of the loathing she had concealed, or of any improvement in her feelings toward him. He could detect neither. Knowing her feelings kept him, for the most part, from her bed, and she made no complaint of this. Occasionally she gave indications that she expected his attentions, and as she was an attractive woman, and he a vigorous man, he was able to satisfy her when she wished. For the rest, he patronized a certain discreet establishment in Mayfair where the girls were reputed to be clean. And truth to tell, he sometimes wondered if he would even keep up the miserable pretense of his marriage, if it were not for little Weston.

As news of one outrage after another came from the American colonies, as the cause of the Patriots rose, and the Congress met in Philadelphia—and as the British government remained obtuse in meeting every challenge—James often thought of his dear family in New York, and his little son in London, and wondered: Did he really want little Weston to be part of his mother’s world, or to live in the cleaner, more simple world in which he had been raised himself?

How he longed to take Weston over to meet his grandparents. With what agony he answered his father’s letters that begged him to return. When once or twice he had raised the issue with Vanessa, even promising her that their visit would be brief, she had refused to countenance the voyage.

Strangely, the quarrel that finally brought matters to a head did not begin over his own family, but over Ben Franklin. It took place at the start of December 1774.

When his well-meaning intervention in the affair of the Hutchinson Letters had so badly backfired, Franklin had not only caused outrage in the colonies. Many in London concluded that he’d stirred up trouble deliberately, and he was roundly cursed. In retaliation, Franklin had written a couple of pieces pointing out some of the errors of the London government in turn. This exacerbated the situation further, and though he still had influential friends in Parliament, Franklin was now unpopular.

James and Vanessa were returning in their carriage from a dinner, through the frosty night-time streets, when James unwisely remarked that he’d been sorry to hear Franklin so roundly abused at the party.